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“Look.” Megan and Clara stood together just where Amelia had left them, at the corner of the kitchen counter where she had unjammed the junk drawer.
Megan’s eyes dashed across the page before Clara began to read it aloud for them.
There was no date on the entry. Not even a month this time. Though riddled with ambiguities, it highlighted one crushing specific.
Nora’s darkest fear.
Megan sank back as Clara started reading. The words came to life as she watched her sisters’ reactions.
“‘Overnight my life has fallen into shambles. First handling a lovesick, hormonal teenager and her two sisters in a different state. Managing the hospital bills and complications I’ve thrust upon us because of my own fears, and for what? To save a little face? I never should have left. I should have listened to Wendell. Is it too late? I hope not.’” Clara glanced up at them, and Megan winced.
“Keep going,” Amelia urged, nibbling her thumbnail as she continued to hold the phone against her chest.
Clara lifted the paper back to her face. “‘It’s been a long time now, and things are settled well enough. Kate will be leaving for college. As far as the girls know, Wendell left us. But I know it’s not true. And what is worse is that I received a crippling phone call today. I’m not one to say no to new adventures, or old ones for that matter, but I had to say no to this. I don’t know what repercussions it will carry. Wendell’s parents have written me off completely. I have half a mind to believe they think I killed poor Wendell. Killed him! Why else would the police interview us over and over and over again? I finally wised up and hired Mr. Matuszewski.’” At that, Clara froze.
Megan whipped her head to Amelia, her eyebrows falling in together. “Matuszewski? Like... Michael?”
Amelia shook her head, bewilderment filled her face, and she tapped her phone screen. “Michael, are you there?”
His voice came over the speaker. “I’m here. Is everything okay?”
“We just found another of Mom’s journal entries, and it says that our mother hired someone during the investigation into our dad’s disappearance. A lawyer, I mean.”
He didn’t reply right away, so Megan nodded at Amelia to continue.
“Michael, she wrote that she hired Mr. Matuszewski. That’s not...”
“My grandfather,” Michael replied. The words came out on a gasp. “Oh my—I can’t believe she never told me.”
Megan frowned at Amelia. “What does he mean? Wouldn’t his grandfather have mentioned it?”
“Is that Megan?” Michael asked blindly.
Amelia held the phone closer to her mouth. “Yes. You’re on speaker. Did you not know about this?” The three sisters shared a skeptical look.
“No, I didn’t. But I wasn’t close to my grandfather. Neither was my dad. But I suppose I should have known, anyway. I mean, wasn’t it big news around here?”
He sounded genuinely confused. Megan had to give him that. She leaned closer to Amelia. “Who are you talking about when you said you couldn’t believe she never told you?”
“Nora. Your mom.”
Megan rolled her eyes, though not at Michael. Of course Nora wouldn’t have told him. The whole thing was very hush hush. As far as the Hannigan women knew, their mother paid off the whole town to sink Wendell’s disappearance into oblivion and sufficiently hide it from local memory.
“Don’t be surprised about that,” Amelia assured him. “Mom was never one to air her own dirty laundry. Others’ maybe, but not hers.”
He sighed across the line. “Well, she did a good job keeping it under wraps. For being relatively new to town, I consider myself in the loop.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s old news. And anyway,” Megan added, “as far as anyone believes, it was not a scandal. It was a man who left his family. Those types of stories are a dime a dozen, right?”
As she said it, Megan thought about Brian and why she chose him. Even as a young woman, she knew she didn’t want a walk-away Joe. It was a big reason Megan said yes to Brian from the get-go. Sure, they hit it off. Sure, he was handsome, and she certainly fell in love. Hard. But in the end, Megan might have gone on a million other dates. She might have swooned over a brooding musician or taken up with one of Amelia’s actor friends over the years, someone with charm, someone with rhythm who could dance and send endless goosebumps across her flesh, but no. She chose a man who had more fidelity than smooth moves. She chose a man who believed in commitment.
The irony did not escape her. Of course, it wasn’t Brian who pressed for a separation.
It was Megan.
She bit her lower lip and said a quiet, private prayer. A big one, to be sure. And even though it was not a good moment, even though they were on the precipice of solving a decades-old family mystery, she pulled her own phone out and studied the last text message she’d received, rubbing her thumb across it with hope and fear. Her entire body lit up in goosebumps.
“Is that all she wrote?” Michael asked, startling Megan. She double-checked the time on her phone then slid it back into her pocket.
Amelia answered for the group. “No. There’s more.”
“Go ahead,” Megan urged. “Read it.”
Clearing her throat, Clara went on. “‘He’—she’s referencing your grandpa—” Clara added for Michael’s benefit, “‘kept me out of trouble, which was all I needed him to do. Besides, there just wasn’t much to it. The police had no evidence of foul play, but they surely had evidence that Wendell planned to go.’”
“Oh, wow,” Amelia interrupted, her breath heavy.
“Sh,” Megan snapped. “Keep reading.” Even though she knew what was coming next, she was anxious for Amelia and Clara to know it, too. And even Michael.
“‘His overnight duffle was missing. His boat was missing. And he’d left his truck at the house on the harbor, complete with the key in the visor. It was like a movie. A hellish movie. They all forced me to accept that he couldn’t handle the pressure I’d put him under. I refused, though. I still refuse. On my life, Wendell didn’t leave us. Not because of me or his own druthers, of that I’m certain. And yet, they refuse to continue the search. They—the police, Wendell’s parents, and even my own lawyer—feel adamant that Wendell was (and I quote) fed up. With me. With me! And do you want to know why? I’ll tell you why. Two words: Gene Carmichael.’”